


Bloodroot

by archaicacid



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Witches, undead boyfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaicacid/pseuds/archaicacid
Summary: Eren grows what plants he can in his small apartment with his undead boyfriend while trying to deal with the consequences of using the book of necromancy.





	

The window filters grey light into their small apartment, trying to push past the small succulents and hanging plants, situated where they can soak up the most sunshine. It’s still too early to tell if the clouds will clear or the fog will roll away; it’s been raining on and off, anyway.

Eren sits cross legged on worn carpet, using his spray bottle to spritz the small pots filled with herbs that he’s laid around him--touches them and tends to them carefully one by one. They’re important for his potions and dead plants don’t do any good for the salves he wants to make.

Jean doesn’t sleep anymore, but Eren knows he’s lying in bed, eyes closed with a small pile of blankets to keep him warm. Eren runs hot, but Jean’s cold fingers would begin to bother him eventually. (He’d never admit to that.)

“Jean?” He calls, finally.

There’s a small groan that comes from down the hall and no sound after that, no soft padding or shuffling of socks against carpet.

Eren huffs and sprays the next plant in front of him, slowly wiping down its leaves and checking for the tiny bugs that somehow find their way into the pot. In spring, they don’t bother him that much. It’s summer that he hates the most, but it’s also when his garden flourishes. A small price to pay.

Nothing has grown enough to warrant picking or plucking or cutting, so he leaves the garden alone after watering, setting each plant back in its place by the windows, filtering out some more of the grey light that tries to sneak in.

“Jean?” Eren tries again. He jumps with the _hello_ that comes from behind and Jean laughs.

“Don’t _do_ that,” comes out as a hiss. “Especially when I can’t even hear you breathe.”

“That’s your fault, you know,” and maybe today is an easy-going day, one where they can joke about what’s happened. Those days are always nice.

Eren hums and wraps his arms around Jean’s small waist, hair rising because of his cooler skin.

They don’t move for a long while, until Jean pulls back, pushing Eren’s thick hair away from his forehead. “You have eye bags like mine, you know. You’ve been sleeping like shit lately.”

A shrug. “Just thinking too much.”

“About me?”

“About kissing you.” It’s only half a lie, Eren thinks. He honestly does think about kissing Jean a lot. It’s awkward, at times, Jean’s mouth is usually dry, taste slightly acidic, but Eren doesn’t care now as much as he did. Kissing is just...nice to do. Jean can kiss back -- his mouth isn’t stiff, teeth aren’t rotting, and he doesn’t taste like formaldehyde.

“Mm, is that all?”

Eren shrugs again and Jean directs their short conversation somewhere else. “What are you working on, anyway?”

“I...just a couple small potions? Healing stuff.”

“Healing stuff…” trails Jean.

Eren nods.

“Can I help or something?” Jean scratches at his nose; it can’t itch, but the motion is habit. There’s a spot on his finger slightly yellowed from cigarettes he can’t smoke anymore, and Eren bites his lips as he stares at it.

“Not really, no. None of the plants are ready, and I have to stop by the corner shop later to pick up some things.”

“Hanji’s or whatever?”

 

“Yeah, hers.”

Eren lets Jean slip from his fingertips, and Jean wanders into the kitchen to pull out a mug--only one mug, for Eren. He takes his coffee with spoonfuls of sugar and whatever odd flavors he manages to find at the supermarket. It’s _birthday cake_ that’s currently in their fridge.

The bit of coffee that’s left in the pot is cold, but Eren watches as Jean realizes it too late. Eren laughs as Jean makes a pained sigh.

“Of course it’s from yesterday. I’ll just cover it up with that shitty creamer in the fridge.” Eren moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, hearing the loud beeps on the microwave and the buzzing that sounds more like an airplane taking off.

“You should clean that stain off the glass. You’re the only one who eats the shit that comes out of there.” Jean scratches his nose again. Eren _knows_ it’s because of the no smoking thing. They both hate the no smoking thing. But they both hate the idea of Jean’s chest being cut into if he ever has to clean what’s left of Jean’s lungs and they both know that the cuts won’t go away.

“Netflix today?”

“Rainy day in, yeah,” Eren agrees. It’s normal. _Normal_ is good. That’s what they need.

 

..

 

The clouds still aren’t clear by noon, and Eren is on the couch, Jean between his legs. They’re letting the credits scroll through for the movie on the screen, not bothering to click any buttons to go back to the main menu--Jean groans every time Eren makes a move to get up and take his hands out of his hair.

There’s this odd agreement to avoid from horror movies that have too much gore, anything with zombies, lost limbs. Eren takes notice of Jean’s lips pursing and quickly scrolls past each one.

“Another comedy?”

Jean snorts. “That one wasn’t fucking funny, it was just depressing. No more,” he makes air quotes “ _comedies._ ”

Eren tugs on his hair, but Jean doesn’t hiss because of it. “Be nice. I liked that movie.”

“You have terrible taste. I’m allowed to say that and not have you threaten dumping me.”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t dump you over something like that, because I would.”

Jean rolls his eyes and reaches to his side to grab Eren’s unoccupied hand. He just wants to hold it, and the gesture makes them both go silent for a moment before Eren mumbles a quiet _I love you_.

 

…

 

“Levi?” Eren calls out just after the bells chime above the door. There’s a shuffling sound paper and wood that sounds more like Hanji’s frantic nature than Levi’s. “Or Hanji?”

“Eren!”

There it is, Eren thinks. “Levi’s in the back sorting some new stock. You can go get him.” She pops her head out from next to the front desk. She isn’t sitting behind it, but on the floor beside it, rather, pages scattered around her and small amulets in a box near her hip.

Eren nods and steps over the paper and various things, trying not to break anything in his path. He gets a foot or so past her before turning around. “I can just come back later, maybe.”

“No, no!” Hanji waves her arms towards the back. “Go talk to him, I know you two have been talking a lot.”

Only because Levi knows what he’s been dipping into, even if he doesn’t approve. Jean stays at home for most of these trips, except for the days he knows Hanji won’t be there -- she’d know, she’d figure things out immediately, and maybe she’d be more curious than angry but he doesn’t take the chance.

It’s a bit funny, though, he thinks, because Levi doesn’t have powers. He wasn’t born into anything; he’s normal, _mostly_. He reads the books around him, toys with the charms and dolls and anything else that passes through the shop, but doesn’t really put any of them to use because he can’t.

But Eren goes to him for advice because there’s really nowhere else to turn.

“Levi?”

“Behind the boxes, kid.”

“Oh, right.” Eren stands on his toes and peers over misshapen cardboard boxes to see Levi sorting through a catalog of books, cursing under his breath.

“What is it?”

Eren wrings his hands. “I tried some of the recipes we found and nothing is really working.”

Levi looks up at him, expression flat. “Can’t really do anything about that, can I?”

“I,” Eren hesitates. “No. Just thought I should tell you. Maybe we can look for more?”

“Not while Hanji is here, we can’t.” He looks back down to his catalog, checking off inventory and pulling leather books from boxes. His tone is curt, but his annoyance isn’t with Eren, it’s with what Eren’s done, what Eren is _doing._

Even Eren knows that, because Levi treats him like an idiotic younger brother most of the time, except when Jean gets brought up. Levi lets him sit in the store and flip through the books at the second chair behind the front desk without buying them. He even brings him the oddly shaped cookies he bakes that somehow manage to taste better the uglier they are.

But this is different, like Levi distances himself from everything Eren chooses to do with Jean and with the dead. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s honestly easier that way. Salves and potions are one thing. Jean is another. Even if those two generally got a long.

“Right, sorry. Um, I can come back?”

Levi shakes his head and rubs at his forehead. “Shit. Sorry, kid. Just busy today. Hanji pushed two orders through of all this shit. The store is only so big.”

Levi doesn’t need to apologize, Eren knows that.

“I’ll still come back.”

“Tomorrow. Same time.”

“Yeah. Same time. I’ll bring Jean.”

After Eren wanders back through the store and over even more scattered papers, Hanji shouts to the back of the store, “Everything okay, Levi?”

“Yeah, just Eren’s boyfriend problems.”

Hanji’s cackle makes Levi snort.

 

..  


It rains the next day, but the air isn’t as cool as it should be; more humid and thick, even as the sky darkens for night.

The bells dings in the shop, but when Eren steps inside, the floor is clean--no papers or boxes. Levi looks up from behind the desk to see Eren and immediately looks back down.

“I picked out a few new things. Don’t know if they’ll actually work, though. We got some new spell books in.” He picks up a black book and shakes it in the air without looking up.

“I have to wait for some of my new plants to grow. We can wait.”

“ _We_ , right.” Eren knows Levi is rolling his eyes. “There is no _we_ , this is all you, kid.”

Eren lays his arms down on the desk, leaning over to settle his face against the cool, dark wood. “It still means a lot that you’re helping.”

Levi opens his mouth to say something but closes it, like he’s gathering his thoughts. He sets his pen down and lets the pages flip without the weight of his hand holding them down. “I can’t stop you from doing this shit, but I can keep an eye over what you’re doing. That’s all this is. Hanji and I would both shit bricks if anything happened to you,” he pauses to flick Eren’s forehead. “Stop smiling at that, I’m serious. This is some dark shit you did, and I know you’re trying to make him perfect, but you’re lucky you’re okay and he’s even able to speak now. You’re lucky your mom was who she was.”

There it is.

“I know, Levi. I know. If it was anyone else I’d be dead. Or something.”

“You’re taking this awful light for a kid who used the book of necromancy without hurting himself.”

Eren laughs. “I know that, too. Just let me have this.” He lifts his head up and walks around to sit next to Levi behind the desk and Levi slides his notes over. There’s two spells for healing scars, ones he hasn’t tried before, but the problem is if they’ll work on dead flesh. Magic that dealt with the body needed something living, and no matter how many modifications Eren did, the effects were minimal. But there were always more to try.

The book of necromancy was one he was unwilling to open again just yet, and it was one that Levi openly refused to touch. People tossed it around in jest, but the words inside were completely serious.

Eren had opened it in desperation.

Those who had done the same faced consequences worse than death, but what those were, Eren didn’t try to guess. Levi had warned him, quietly, when he’d taken the book. He’d know when something went wrong, he always did, because that book always came back to the same spot on the shelf. Dust gathered and settled there, unmoving, even when children’s fingers were swatted away and curious hands touched the cover.

It had a mind of its own. Or the devil’s, perhaps. Levi didn’t try to understand it or guess.

“Are you writing down anything you find?”

Levi pulls the book closer to himself and flips open to a random page. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

“I just mean,” Eren bites his lip, “if you were looking for something specific.”

“Let’s see, _heal my undead boyfriend’s deep tissue scars because some of his skin_ _isn’t his_ is a bit specific, don’t you think? Speaking of, where is that cold-blooded kid, anyway?”

“He has the night shift, tonight. He’s trying to help out since I’ve been paying rent alone. And he’s not cold-blooded, Jesus.”

There’s a quiet tapping sound of Levi’s pen against the rough paper of the book. “Right, my mistake. He doesn't have blood because that was removed before the embalming process.”

Eren chooses to ignore his quip. “Did you bring any cookies?”

“Do I like like your grandmother?”

Eren’s eyes go soft and he pouts. Levi breaks all too easy.

“They’re in the second drawer. Thought I’d try to hide them from you and Hanji.”

He’s there until almost 4AM, an hour past closing, reading until his eyes started to burn. They have a notebook page full of page numbers to look up and a few hand written recipes to try, but even Levi begins to shoo him away to sleep.

Eren takes half the bag of sweets home--every misshapen one. He contemplates stealing the whole thing as Levi hesitates letting him have them, hoping to take a few to his friend.

(Friend is something that Eren laughs at, too, because he knows Levi is sweet on the 6 foot something also mostly-normal blonde. His curse seemed ridiculous, perhaps just strings of coincidences that Eren hadn’t believed it at first, not until Erwin had come into the shop and broken a few of the thankfully less expensive amulets and charms with large and clumsy hands. Something in Eren’s stomach told him it more than blind bad luck.)

It’s cooled down by now and they each wrap themselves tighter in their thin jackets.

“When does Kirschstein get off, anyway?”

“5 I think? I just wait for him at home, though. He doesn’t want me to pick him up ‘cause he thinks I should be sleeping.”

“You should, kid.” Levi fishes for something in his coat pocket, pulling out an almost empty pack of cigarettes. “Want one before you go?”

Eren nods and takes one and lets Levi light the end, but Levi never lights his own, just plays with it and slips it between his fingers.

“I know you’re going to ask. I’m trying to quit. I hate the fucking smell and it’s dirty. Leaves your hands yellow.”

“But you still started.”

“I never said I was smart.” Levi throws the whole thing down into the gutter, letting it float away on the small stream that’s formed. “Finish your smoke and leave. You look tired.”

“I’m going, I’m going. I’ll finish it on my walk home.” And before Jean finds out, he thinks.

Levi nods to him and turns to begin his own walk home, waving over his shoulder when Eren shouts out a quick _Bye_.

Eren sort of but not really sleeps in the time that he waits for Jean. Mental and physical exhaustion have become common place, so much that he doesn’t take notice except for the almost nightmares that happen when he tries to sleep. He knows he has to eventually, he tends to pass out heavily every few days, but he avoids it when he can. It’s getting easier to do so.

He doesn’t hear the lock click on the apartment door, but he does feel the sinking weight of Jean climbing into bed. He knows he’s dreaming, though, half in and out of sleep; dreams about _waking_ Jean up. Does _waking_ make sense, he thinks, because there really isn’t a better word for it. Jean had told him later it was like being in a deep sleep, nothing but black until Eren’s worried voice had cut through it.

In Eren’s dream, it’s almost what happens, but not quite, because Jean is crying and his cheeks are wet when they haven’t been in almost a year and a half. Jean isn’t able to cry, not properly, but in his dream Jean sobs as he grabs at Eren.

 _I’m dreaming_ , he tells himself in a watery voice in his head, except he feels a wetness on his chest and on his neck. It feels too real for him to ignore and he can’t pull away.

Jean just pulls him closer and closer and his chest is starting to hurt, but he can’t pull back

_can’t pull back, fuck, I can’t fucking move, Jean, please, it hurts_

“Eren?” The voice sounds as watery as his own but it isn’t from the Jean who’s crying in his dream.

“Eren, babe.”

Eren wakes up and immediately tries to catch his breath; panting and grabbing at the Jean who’s in front of him.

“Everything okay? You kind of looked like you had that sleep paralysis thing going on, you weren’t really moving.”

Eren scrubs at his face with one hand and keeps the other loosely around Jean’s waist. “Kind of? You were holding on to me and then I couldn’t move, but you were--” He cuts himself off. “I can’t remember after that.”

“You should try making some sleep potions or something. You sleep like shit.”

Eren shrugs. “Lay with me.”

“Kind of need to put PJ’s on.” Jean laughs at Eren’s little whine. “I’ll go fast.” He kisses Eren’s forehead and his cold lips tingle against Eren’s warm skin.

He isn’t fast enough, because Eren’s asleep by the time he crawls under the covers.

“Told you you were fucking tired.”

By morning, Eren forgets his dream, and he finds Jean fumbling around in the kitchen starting a fresh pot of coffee.

 

..

 

Ymir’s shifts at the convenience store overlap with Jean’s, usually, 10pm to 5am, or whenever the hell their replacement rolls in in the morning. The store quiets down by 2am, and with nothing else to do and seven hours together, they have to talk. Somewhat, at least.

They both snort when Jean mentions that for the first time after a shift or two together, laughing moments later.

Ymir sometimes smells like smoke; wears their uniform with cut off sleeves in summer and doesn’t ask about his sweatshirts in the store whose air doesn’t kick on until it’s over 85 degrees even during the warmer months.

Jean likes her and the quiet teasing and acceptance that they don’t have to talk about. It means he has this with someone other than Eren, someone he’s found on his own. Eren worries, and Ymir worries in her own crude ways, but sometimes he can pretend with her--can almost be himself without the whole being dead thing because that’s made it a little harder to make friends.

He’s half an hour early tonight, Eren was easily caught up in his potions. So, he’d left, shoving a few books in his bag and his cell phone in case Eren started to worry when he inevitably lost track of time and wondered where Jean had gone. _You’re just gonna keep forgetting I work until you actually see me there,_ only Jean sort of wants to keep Eren separate from this, because this is his own thing, even if he’s doing it to help with rent, help with whatever Eren needs.

He sits in the parking lot behind the store on one of the concrete parking blocks, laying out his book bag in front of him to dig through, but barely 10 minutes pass in his reading before he’s interrupted.

“Hey, loser, why are you here so early?” Jean turns to face Ymir just in time to get a cigarette butt flicked at him. He makes a face and flips her off.

“I’m just gonna ask the same thing.”

“Yeah, well. I steal the old hot dogs and bad nacho cheese before Nile throws them out. You just look like you mope around for an hour.”

“I don’t fucking mope.”

Ymir hums. She doesn’t believe him.

He isn’t moping, though, he’s reading some terrible occult romance novel that he’d found in Hanji’s shop and thinking a little bit about kissing Eren, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Her sweatshirt is a little ripped and she has a scarf on in a color that clearly indicates it doesn’t belong to her.

Jean points to it. “Girlfriend’s?”

Ymir snorts. “That obvious?”

“You’re not really a coral girl.”

“That was pretty gay.”

“You’d know.”

They both start laughing and she slips her own backpack off to throw on the asphault in front of Jean. There’s still a good 20 minutes before either of them can clock in, so she sits beside him, halfway reading over his shoulder and laughing at the bad dialogue.

“You want a hot dog? Gonna go grab one.”

“Nah, I’m good. Not hungry.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.” Her tone is teasing.

“That’s because,” Jean pauses before he continues that sentence, because Ymir seemed like the type to tease him endlessly about the lie that sat on the tip of his tongue. He’d said it to someone before, trying to get them quickly off his back about undereating, and it was the only excuse that made a vague sort of sense. He just ended up feeling like a huge cliche.

Eren called it the believable white boy problem, fucking _gluten insensitivity_.

“I’m allergic to a lot of shit and I’m an insomniac. Eating around the clock just sounds like a bad ending to that story.”

She shakes her head and stands up, dusting off her jeans. “You know I was teasing, right? You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Jean shrugs and looks up to face her directly. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t curious.” He turns back to his book to finish up the current chapter that he’s on and waits for Ymir to bring out the now day old hot dogs as some half-assed dinner.

She brings out four and ends up eating almost all of them before she closes her eyes and covers her face.

“That was a stupid idea.”

“I could have told you that before you took the first fucking bite.”

“But they’re free and Nile’s just gonna toss ‘em out, anyway.”

It reminds him of the stupid stunts that he and Eren pulled in high school, for some reason. He remembers sharing cigarettes and trying to steal a beer or two from the 24-hour supermarkets. Staying out until daybreak, running around the neighborhood half drunk trying to destroy mailboxes. Thinks about how different they are now.

It feels like more than four years ago and the memories feel like they almost belong to someone else. But they’d both been different back then, Jean had been _Jean_ and Eren was _Eren, his stupid gay crush_. Eren wasn’t a witch.

Except he was. He had been then, like he is now, he’d just been good at hiding it and hiding how powerful his mother actually was.

That is _not_ a thought he’s going to dwell on, he thinks.

He shakes his head and stands up, extending a hand out to Ymir, who groans and grabs at it to stand up beside him.

“Come on, shift’s gonna start.”

He texts Eren a few hours later when he checks his phone to see five unread messages. Someone puked behind the toilet in the bathroom not more than an hour into their shift and Ymir won the rock paper scissors battle they had to determine who had to clean it up. That left Jean with the absorbent powder their boss locked up in the janitor’s closet and a pair of rubber gloves.

He doesn’t gag when he sees it, just groans, because he can’t really smell anything, anyway. He can’t taste anything anymore either. (Food almost made him physically ill, or whatever could happen to someone undead, like his insides were twisting in refusal.)

The next two hours are spent watching the powder suck up the mess and looking for the broom through the mess of the janitor’s closet, trying to organize things as he goes along. It doesn’t look much better by the time he finds it, but at least he can walk around without tripping. He doesn’t mean to not check his phone and doesn’t mean to ignore Eren’s texts, but for better or worse, that’s what Eren’s assumes.

_i’m at work it’s ok babe. i work until 5 ish_

_oh_ is Eren’s immediate reply, followed by _i feel rly dumb, lol, im sorry. i kno u work tues/thurs but idk the rest of the days_

 _usually monday and friday_ sometimes his fingers are so cold that his phone doesn’t register that he’s tapping anything on the screen. He tries not to get angry at that. _i told you i was trying to pick up more shifts to help with groceries and stuff_

 _that was like 2 wks ago, i forgot_ Jean’s phone shows that Eren is typing something out, but it’s quickly erased and the small speech bubble disappears. He sets his phone aside for a moment before seeing the screen light up

_im sorry._

_for what?_

_ur trying to help and i freaked out. im not trying to treat u like a kid or anything_

_i know, eren. it’s ok. i worry about you too_

The speech bubble appears and disappears a few times before the next message.

_i love u_

_i love you, too. ill be home soon. kinda slow if you want to keep texting_

_might try to sleep, super tired :x_

_you should, youre gonna run yourself to the ground. and stop worrying so much lol_

The texts stop after that, and Jean assumes Eren’s fallen asleep. He refills the disposable cups near the drink dispensers brings out a few more burritos from the freezer, watching Ymir from the corner of his eye as she deals with a drunk customer.

She snaps back at his sharp tone and as Jean makes to head over to direct the customer outside, they stumble through the door, pulling on it twice before realizing they have to push.

Ymir takes a deep breath, as though she’s trying to calm herself. “There’s two things this job makes me hate; major holidays and people.”

“That’s kind of broad”

She shakes her head. “No. You know exactly the people I mean and the self-entitled assholes that major holidays bring, like we don’t have enough now. I work night shift at a convenience store, I don’t know what they expect from me, sorry all the gas pumps are full, yelling at me isn’t gonna make that shit go faster.”

Jean’s phone buzzes in his pocket but he doesn’t pull it out to check just yet. He groans at her statement instead. “Like that fucking idiot who wanted to return two cases of opened beer because they “tasted funny.””

Ymir lets out a sharp laugh. “Still can’t believe I wasn’t there to witness that.”

“No, don’t ever regret that. He yelled at me for fifteen minutes until Nile came in to check on the store.” The stitches on his arms are dry and they tug, but he’s careful not to scratch too hard. The material of his sweatshirt makes them feel raw.

His phone buzzes again.

_hey jean_

_were ok right?_

His heart can’t beat loudly because it doesn’t beat at all and his mouth doesn’t go dry, but his body goes numb all the same. The text almost feels out of place, but it’s just the sort of thing that he’d expect from Eren in high school at three or so in the morning. All sorts of existential shit.

_course we’re ok_

By the time he gets home, Eren is in and out of sleep, barely groaning when he crawls into bed. Jean wraps his arms around him, and he can feel Eren’s hair stand up in his skin from the cool difference, but Eren still leans into him.

Jean knows Eren will cling to him for hours on end like this and he won't be able to move or walk around, but he's learned to sort of accept that when he's the reason Eren gets any sleep at all anymore. Something about being near him. Jean doesn't want to assign a deeper meaning to it but it's sort of inevitable.

Eren needs him.

That's why he brought him back. A selfish desperation that Jean can't even begin to wrap his head around even with the hundreds of sleepless nights he's been able to use to question it.

Part of him is selfish, too. He wouldn't give this up to make things right and go back to laying on a hard table being prepped for embalming.

He missed Eren, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post this after a few months of back and forth editing and I still make a lot of changes before posting, so let me know if you guys see anything that needs to be fixed! I like the symbolism of bloodroot but tbh I mostly wanted to name something after an MF Doom song ✌️️✌️️ 
> 
> I love erejean please come talk to me about it at archaicacid @ tumblr & thank you so much for reading!!


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